


7 Failsafe Ways To find Your Soulmate

by tepache



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And he's so done, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Give this man a break, I couldn't choose one so I combined them, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam ships it so hard, So Many Tropes Guys, Wingfic, Wings, and very fluffy, i don't really know what to tag this so this is all we're going with, no beta we die like men, very cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tepache/pseuds/tepache
Summary: "7 Failsafe Ways to Find Your Soulmate"The only question was whether or not he should do it.Would it be considered unethical, immoral? He thought back to this morning, to the longing glances, to the sustained eye contact. The warm smiles, the soft touches, the constant push and pull of love and betrayal and emotions. All of the secondhand tension that he had to deal with.Yeah. Dean and Cas definitely deserved this.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 237
Collections: ProfoundBond Exchange: Quarantine & Chill





	7 Failsafe Ways To find Your Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TobytheWise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobytheWise/gifts).



> This was written for the amazing TobyTheWise for the PB exchange Quarantine and Chill! I couldn't decide which soulmate au to go with, and I had so many ideas, so I just combined them?? Sort of?? Anyway, there's a lot of crack and a lot of fluff and just a tiny little bit of self deprecating Dean. But mainly crack and fluff. Enjoy!

It’s on day seven that Sam finally cracks, because for all of his bookishness, propensity for research, and overall nerdiness, he really is an extrovert at heart.

“Come on, Dean! I’m being serious, I cannot and  _ will _ not survive like this for much longer.” 

The man in question raised an eyebrow at Sam, who was sitting sullenly on the kitchen table. Dean flipped an omelette in his pan expertly, catching the little floppy thing dead center. After freezing for a moment, eyeing the omelette critically, Dean straightened with a proud grin on his face and turned to Sam.

“ _ That _ was perfect. I caught it perfectly.”

“What are you even making?”

“Dude. Omelette. Egg white, too, just ‘cause you’re picky.”

“Then why was it just in the air?”

Dean let out an indignant little noise. “I’m flippin’ it the fancy way. Learned how to do it last night, figured I’d give it a try.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “You looked up how to flip an omelette last night?”

Dean eyed the little container of paprika sitting on the counter carefully and wondered whether or not a spicy omelette was something Sam would want right now. Apparently, omelettes tasted better with a little kick in them, but Dean had neglected to add anything when he was stirring up the eggs and other veggies for the omelette in the first place. Now, though, he was considering sprinkling a pinch on top of the omelette. He then realized he had thought the word “omelette” way too many times in the past couple of seconds, and looked up to give Sam his attention.

“Hmm?”

“I  _ said _ , did you actually look up how to flip an omelette last night.”

“Stop fucking saying omelette so much.” 

“What?”

“Uh, nothing,” Dean cleared his throat. “I didn’t exactly look up how to flip the thing, it just sorta showed up.”

Sam blinked. “Not following.”

Dean sighed. “I was watching this movie about Hercules and it talked about flesh eating horses, so I looked up if flesh eating horses were an actual thing or not. Long story short, I fell down an internet rabbit hole through a whole bunch of fucked up stuff, found out there’s a sect of Christianity that worships Jesus as a sex icon, and ended up on some old white grandma’s food blog. It had instructions on how to flip an omelette, and it wanted to try it out.”

Sam went silent for a minute and processed the flesh eating horses and food blog, choosing to ignore the sexy Jesus. Unconcerned, Dean flipped a knife in his hand casually, then used it to fastidiously fold the omelette onto a plate, having decided against the paprika, because, given the current nation-wide quarantine, he didn’t want to accidentally give Sam diarrhea. Cas chose that moment to stumble blearily into the kitchen.

“G’mornin’ sunshine. Want an omelette?” Dean smiled brightly at the current reincarnation of a storm cloud, who eloquently chose not to reply and made a beeline for the coffee machine. Dean decided to make one for Cas anyway. He grabbed Sam’s plate and placed it in front of him with a wink. “Enjoy.”

Sam chose that moment to explode. “This is what I’m talking about! You two are absolutely  _ fine _ , and I can’t stand it!”

“You . . . can’t stand us being fine?” Dean looked at Sam, bewildered. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sam groaned. “What I’m  _ saying _ is that I am bored out of my mind! I’ve cleaned my room twice, gone on a jog indoors somehow, and I’ve tried to read some new books but I lose interest by the third page.” He threw his hands up for emphasis and gestured widely at Dean. “Meanwhile, you’ve been perfectly happy watching movies about flesh eating horses and making omelettes and I don’t know  _ what  _ Cas has been doing these past couple of days but he hasn’t complained once!”

Cas rose from the depths of his coffee cup and blinked languidly at Sam. “I found an old spellbook on gardening and have been attempting to create a greenhouse in the unused astronomy room. It’s quite relaxing. You’re welcome to join me.”

“You’ve been doing that for seven days straight?” Sam questioned. 

“Yes. It seems repetitive tasks that require a moderate amount of attention occupy my mind fully.”

“But how do you not get bored?” Sam demanded.

Cas looked as though he didn’t fully understand what Sam meant. “It’s meditative,” he added helpfully.

Sam considered Cas’s words for a moment before shaking his head and turning to Dean. “What about you? Don’t you get bored watching movies?”

Dean chuckled lowly and Sam chose to ignore the little shiver he saw Cas make out of the corner of his eye. “Dude. The internet is  _ ginormous _ . I could stay in my room with nothing but my computer, charger, and some food and be fine for months.” Ignoring Sam’s disbelieving scoff, Dean continued. “Apparently  _ fanfiction _ is a thing and I’ll have you know, there are a lot of people who agree with me about Harrison Ford in cowboy boots.”

“You read fanfiction about Harrison Ford in cowboy boots?” Now Sam seemed vaguely amused instead of irritated.

Dean, who apparently just realized what he said, backtracked hastily. “I mean, for some reason, people think Harrison Ford should wear cowboy boots more.”

“Why were you looking up fanfiction about Harrison Ford?” Sam had skipped past vaguely amused and regular amused straight into gleeful and delighted.

“Iーit’s just, um, Karen Allen was hot in  _ Raiders _ .”

“Harrison Ford was also hot in  _ Raiders. _ ” Cas observed.

Dean and Sam whipped around to stare at Cas, who seemed unperturbed by his comment. Finally, Dean managed a strangled, “ _ What? _ ”

Cas looked up at Dean. “Well, objectively, Harrison Ford is a conventionally attractive man, and his appearance in  _ Raiders of the Lost Ark _ was fairly enticing to anyone who watched the movie and was attracted to men.” Cas kept looking up at Dean. Dean, still wide eyed, kept looking down at Cas. Sam kept looking at the two of them for a couple seconds before snapping his fingers to get Dean’s attention, gesturing to the counter where Cas’s omelette sat unmade.

“Right. Cas, you want egg yolks or just the white stuff?”

“Keep the egg yolks in please, and paprika is fine with me.”

“On it.”

Sam picked up a fork and a knife and cut into his omelette. It really was pretty good, he thought. Whoever’s blog Dean had stumbled upon knew what they were talking about.

“Anyway, there’s tons of stuff to do, Sam! Most of it is just wasting time, but when else am I gonna get the time to go on a Star Wars movie marathon in between hunts?” Dean looked up from whisking the eggs and veggies together in a bowl to give Sam a smile.

Sam swallowed the bite of egg in his mouth before responding. “Yeah, I know that there’s a lot to do. The problem is, since I know I can’t go out and that there’s only a bunch of stuff in here to do, I don’t want to do it anymore. Also, is there any bread?”

“Yeah, I’ll toast some up real quick.” Dean poured Cas’ eggs on the frying pan before spreading some butter onto two slices of bread and placing those on another frying pan.

“Your mind usually enjoys reading and cataloguing because you rarely have time for it and you consider it a treat or reward. Now that you have time, it doesn’t appeal to you anymore,” Cas observed thoughtfully. “Dean, may I have some bread, too?”

Dean clicked his tongue and made finger guns with Cas with his free hand, the other busy prying the edges of the omelette up gently with a spatula.

“Exactly, Cas. Everything that I want to do now is stuff that I can’t. And I’m about to go out of my freaking mind with boredom.” Omelette finished, Sam slid his glass of orange juice closer to him and stared at it sullenly.

Dean flipped Cas’ omelette perfectly and did a small whoop. He twirled around to face Cas, eyes bright and excited. “Cas, didja see that?”

“I did. It was very impressive, Dean, your hand eye coordination is remarkable.” Cas smiled at Dean all soft and gentle. Dean beamed. 

Sam sighed again. “So what am I supposed to do? Cas, I don’t suppose you could use some help making your greenhouse?”

“I would appreciate help in the greenhouse. But I don’t think it’s something you would enjoy.” Cas pushed his coffee cup to the side to make room for the plate Dean placed in front of him.

Dean headed back behind the kitchen island to grab the slices of bread by the fingertips, wincing at the small burn. He put one on each of their plates, then began to make himself an omelette. “I dunno Sam. Just sounds like you’ve got cabin fever. Normally I’d say to just go outside for a drive or something. Hell, go to the farmers market, you love that shit. But . . . ,” he trailed off. 

Although Dean wasn’t taking the quarantine all that seriously, Cas had been a strong advocate of making sure the Winchesters did not step outside for any reason. He recalled gruesome stories of the Black Plague, the Plague of Athens, the Yellow Fever Epidemic, and various others he lived through, and described the sickness until Dean threw up and Sam begged him to be quiet. Though the brothers weren’t happy with him, they listened, and Cas was the only one who left the house for groceries and other essentials once a week for a trip as fast as he could make it.

Dean put his omelette onto his plate, along with two pieces of bread, and sat down at the table. He smiled gratefully at Cas when he pushed a full mug of coffee at him. “I bet the Men of Letters have a cure of boredom down here or something.”

“A cure for boredom?” Sam sipped his orange juice slowly.

“Yeah.” Dean folded up his omelette and placed it carefully on a slice of bread. He put the other on top, smirked pridefully at his sandwich, and took a bite. Then, he noticed Sam and Cas staring at him and grew defensive. “What? It’s good, try it!”

Cas looked at his leftover omelette thoughtfully, then placed it on his bread and folded it in half. He took a small bite, then nodded. “It’s not bad.”

Sam shook his head at both of them in disgust.

“Listen,” Dean said through a mouthful of food. “The Men of Letters spent their entire lives down here. They obviously got bored, and probably came up with a spell or a potion or something. You can check their records, I’m sure they’ve got something.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged and said, “Why not?” He drained his orange juice, stood up, placed his dish and glass in the sink, and headed out the room.

Cas stared at Dean. “You don’t actually believe the Men of Letters made a cure for boredom.”

Dean raised his eyebrow at him. “Um. No. That’s dumb as shit.”

“Then?”

“I knew how to keep him busy when we were kids. I can do it when we’re adults.”

“Oh. Smart.”

“Mhm.” Dean finished off his omelette-toast sandwich. Suddenly, his tone changed. “Hey, so, did you actually need help in your greenhouse?”

“Yes. You’re welcome to join me after breakfast.”

“Cool,” Dean said happily.

\---

Sam slumped over the box with a sigh. He was sitting cross legged on the ground, and his legs were beginning to protest. And he was on the fourth box of random miscellaneous items in the bunker’s seemingly never ending basement with jack to show for it.

Realistically, he knew that there was nothing down here. The “cure for boredom” Dean had told him to go look for was obviously a ploy to get him to stop moping. But the sad thing was, he was out of his mind enough to consider it. There was the off chance that there might be something remotely interesting down here.

But no, there wasn’t. A couple more studies of vampire physiology, some random old books, and a couple dangerous weapons Dean would love to get his hands on were all that he had found.

Sighing, Sam stood and stretched, wincing at the pins and needles in his legs. Maybe if he begged, Cas would let him go for a jog outside. 

As he made to get out of the library, he bent down to pick up his phone, and his gaze fell upon a book. Well, calling it a book was rather generous. It was more of a hand-bound journal, a couple dozen loose pages inside wrinkled with age. It was the cover, however, that caught Sam’s eye. 

_ 7 Failsafe Ways to Find Your Soulmate _

He flipped through the pages, growing increasingly interested. Pictures of wings, tattoos, and glowing eyes filled the pages among the scribbled notes. Only an incantation was required, and the latin was relatively simple and easy to read. The only question was whether or not he should do it. 

Would it be considered unethical, immoral? He thought back to this morning, to the longing glances, to the sustained eye contact. The warm smiles, the soft touches, the constant push and pull of love and betrayal and emotions. All of the secondhand tension that  _ he  _ had to deal with.

Yeah. Dean and Cas definitely deserved this. 

Just to be safe, Sam reasoned, he would only use a couple of ways listed . . . maybe three. Three of them.

Sam chose three incantations, ones that seemed particularly fun; read them aloud, feeling the air vibrate softly with the power of the words. Then, with a final breath of wind, the air fell still. Time to see if it worked.

\---

Cas mentally rolled his eyes when he heard a dramatic sigh and looked up to see Dean looking as if he was in actual physical pain. Dean shook out his hands and took the gloves off, taking a break from mixing the mulch, topsoil, and fertilizer in the large ceramic pot, and reached for the bottle of water. He took a large sip, then groaned and fell backward from his seated position onto the ground. “Why is soil so fucking  _ dense _ ?”

Cas, who was sitting nearby wearing a ratty pair of jeans and one of Dean’s old Zepp shirts, laughed when he saw Dean spread eagle on the floor. “It’s honestly not that difficult, Dean. I’m already almost done mixing these together.”

“You have arms of steel.”

“I thought this part would be particularly easy for you. You handle weapons on a daily basis.” Cas stood up from his position on the ground and walked over to the basket of hydrangeas, picking one out of the crowd and running his hands over the leaves gently.

“Well, yeah. But it’s also really goddamn hot in here. And just ‘cause my arms are strong doesn’t mean my individual fingers are strong.” Dean chose to punctuate that sentence by throwing his arms over his head, groaning a little with the stretch. 

Cas’s eyes darted over to Dean at the sound, following the strip of skin under the hem of his shirt that was revealed when Dean threw his arms up. His gaze tracked up Dean’s body, pausing at the divot of Dean’s throat, which happened to be glistening with sweat. Then, he hurriedly looked away and bent over his ceramic pot.  _ He doesn’t love you like that _ , Cas reminded himself. “I think your soil is mixed enough. You can grab a plant, and I’ll show you how to put it in the soil.”

“I know how to put a plant in a pot, Cas. It’s not like it's hard.” Dean heaved his body up and grabbed the water bottle off the ground.

Suddenly, he let out a shout and dropped the water bottle, clutching his hand. At the same time, Cas registered a burning sensation on his left forearm, sharp and painful. He put the plant down and gazed at his hand, frowning at the words that had suddenly appeared.

“ _ Do not worry. You’re safe now, _ ” Cas heard Dean say, staring at his left wrist. 

“What?”

Dean looked up at Cas. “These words just showed up on my wrist, like a tattoo or something.  _ ‘Do not worry. You’re safe now.’ _ ”

Cas felt a small jolt in his memory. Those words meant something to him, but he couldn’t remember what. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then held his own arm out to Dean. “Mine say  _ ‘Who are you?’ _ ”

Dean grabbed Cas’ wrist, and Cas resolutely ignored the warm press of Dean’s fingers against his own. His harsh grip had turned soft and gentle, brushing over the words with a carefulness. “The hell are these things?”

The thundering of footsteps up the stairs to the greenhouse were a small warning before Sam burst into the room. “Did anything just happen?”

“Gimme your wrist,” Dean chose to say in response.   
  


“What?”

“Your left wrist,” Dean bit out impatiently, reaching forward and grabbing Sam’s arm. He shoved back the layers of sleeves up to Sam’s elbow, only to reveal bare skin, marred only by a couple scars. No tattoo in sight. Dean cursed. “You don't have one.”

“What don’t I have?”

Dean showed Sam his own wrist. “These tattoos just sorta . . . showed up. Cas has one, too.”

Cas bared his arm. “ _ Who are you _ ,” Sam read. He turned to Dean. “ _ Do not worry. You’re safe now _ .” When Sam straightened, Cas thought he saw a flash of satisfaction in his eyes before it was replaced with concern. “These things just appeared?”

“Yeah,” Dean responded. “It felt like my arm was being burned for a second, then it went away and these things were there instead.” Dean stopped and squinted at Sam suspiciously. “How did you know something happened?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “I was just checking out the stuff in storage like you said. I moved this one box, heard a loud bang from upstairs, then came here to make sure you guys were okay, check out what happened.” He was lying somehow, Cas knew it. 

Dean groaned. “Great. We probably got cursed by one of those freaky magic objects down there that you messed up.”

Sam shook his head. “If that was true, I probably would have been cursed too. I mean, I was closer. But I feel fine.” The brothers fell quiet, both of them staring at Dean’s wrist.

Cas, who had been silent during this whole exchange, stared at Dean’s wrist as well.  _ Do not worry. You’re safe now.  _ He could have sworn he remembered those words, but from where? Cas looked up at Dean, who was biting his lip in frustration. Then, suddenly, the memory came to Cas, the image as vivid as fire. Brimstone and sharp knives jutting through the stifling hot air. The rattle of chains and metal, the anguish of screams and moans. The one, glowing patch of light, flickering feebly but doggedly burning on.

“I know these words.”

Sam whipped his head up and stared at Cas, brow furrowed. “You do?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Yes.  _ Do not worry. You’re safe now. _ They’re the first words I ever said to you.”

Dean and Sam stared at Cas for a second before Dean cleared his throat loudly and uncomprehendingly, “What the fuck?” 

Sam parted his lips in realization, then in a smile. “Um, Sammy? Lookin’ kinda like a psycho over there. Why are you smiling?”

Sam nodded towards Cas. “Were your first words to Cas ‘ _ Who are you? _ ’”

Dean stared at Sam, taken aback. “I don’t-”

Suddenly, things were starting to make a strange sort of sense to Cas. “These are the first words we said to each other, Dean. They’re tattooed on our wrists because, for some reason, this spell or curse thinks what we said when we first met each other was important.”

“Yeah, but why you two? Why not anyone else?” Sam sounded genuinely concerned, but Cas could tell those questions were calculated. Sam knew something about this.

“Hold on!” Dean held up his hand. “These aren’t the first words Cas said to me. You said something else when we met in the barn, remember?”

“What did he say?” Sam asked, curious.

“The furthest thing from a normal hello in the history of the world,” Dean shot a playful glare at Cas, who shrugged. “I think I said  _ ‘Who are you’ _ but you didn’t say,” Dean gestured to his hand, “ _ that _ .”

Cas smiled gently. “Not in the barn, Dean. The very first words I ever said to you was when I rescued you from hell.”

Dean fell silent, staring at Cas wide eyed. Then, he announced, “I need a drink,” and headed downstairs.

\---

“So get this,” Sam said from over his computer, not even bothering to take his eyes off the screen. “This is, like, a thing.”

The three of them were sitting at the bunker dining table. Dean had a tumbler with some whiskey poured in it, and he swirled it a bit after taking a sip. He needed some liquid courage, and his old pal Jack Daniels was going to give it to him, no matter what he had told Sam about his drinking.

The first words Cas had ever said to him. God. He searched his brain for any mention of Cas saying that when he saved him, but those memories were somehow wiped clean.

“A thing?” Cas questioned.

“Online,” Sam responded gleefully. “Apparently, this isn’t new. There’s, like, a genre of writing about people with the first words someone else said to them on their arms or whatever.”

Why couldn’t he remember? Dean had never thought about it before, but his memories of Hell consisted of him torturing and being tortured. However, he had no memory of Cas before the barn.

He shook his head and tried to focus on Sam. “Well? What’s it supposed to mean?”

Sam finally looked up from the screen and stared at Dean, locking their eyes. There were times when Sam didn’t even have to speak, and Dean could still read every emotion on his face. This was not one of those times. Dean tried to guess what Sam was nonverbally saying, and did not succeed. Sam’s expression was oddly serious, and when he switched his gaze over to Cas, Dean noticed Cas was eyeing Sam suspiciously. “It means, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you are tattooed on you, so you will know it's them.”

Dean’s brain screeched to a halt. 

“Soulmate?” Cas echoed from the chair next to Dean. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas’ face. He knew what he’d find there: disbelief and pity.

Every thought, every feeling that had panged painfully in his heart for the angel was swirling around inside of him. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been in love with Cas. Couldn’t remember when or how it began. All he knew is now, this curse or spell or what-the-fuck-ever was saying they were soulmates, and that was true on his end but it  _ wasn’t true on Cas’. _

“I, um, I gotta-” Dean pushed up from the table and stumbled away in a panic.  _ Soulmates _ . He wasn’t expecting to deal with this. He wasn’t expecting to deal with these feelings ever.

“Dean, wait!” He heard Sam call after him. He didn’t hear Cas say anything. Dean could picture Cas’ face. The soft, caring blue eyes that smiled at him sympathetically while telling him  _ I’m sorry. The spell made a mistake. _

There was no way Cas was his soulmate. Not in any universe. Cas was so incredibly, fundamentally  _ good _ and  _ kind _ . He’d never lost the caring and giving nature Dean was always taught angels were supposed to have, no matter how many times he fell.

And now this spell had said Cas was Dean’s soulmate. That Cas was somehow supposed to be in love with someone who kept letting him down and who kept failing him.

Dean reached his room and pushed open the door, trying to escape the panicking thoughts swirling around in his brain. Things felt fuzzy, fuzzier than usual, and he registered a prickling in his back, at the base of his spine. “Ow,” he muttered blearily before he passed out.

\---

Cas came to with a sharp gasp and a heavy feeling on his back. Sam was staring at him, wide eyed.

“Um. You have wings.”

As Cas unsteadily rose, he could feel his wings, which were usually invisible on this plane. They had somehow manifested themselves.

“Yes, it seems they are visible now, somehow.” Cas sat on the chair he had fallen out of, trying to stop the spinning sensation. He brought one of them forward to inspect them when he realized their color was wrong. Previously, the closest color to his wings that was in the visible light spectrum was black. Now, the base of his wings had retained their inky depths, but they faded out to a beautiful, green-gold to the tips.

“Your wings are the color of Dean’s eyes,” Sam observed.

The mention of Dean brought a whole new wave of thoughts to Cas’ mind. Dean had looked so terrified when he left the room. Cas had always felt he was alone in his attraction, but Dean’s reaction to finding out the spell had deemed them soulmates was crystal clear. He felt the same way.

But, first things first. Cas fixed Sam with a glare. “What did you do?”

Sam blinked, taken aback. Then, rather guiltily, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I, I’m — what? What do you mean, I didn’t do anything?”

“Sam, please. You were obviously lying about not knowing anything about this. You didn’t act nearly as surprised as you should have when you conventintly told us about the soulmate tattoos. And instead of either completely losing your mind over my wings, you simply pointed out how their color matched Dean’s eyes.”

Sam stared at Cas for a second, then slumped, abandoning his rigid posture. “Yeah okay. I knew about this.”

“What did you do?” Cas repeated, calmer this time. He knew Sam had Dean’s, and by extension his, best interest at heart. If he wasn’t concerned for Dean’s health, he was probably fine.

Sam sighed. “I found a spellbook down in storage.  _ 7 Failsafe Ways To Find Your Soulmate _ , or something. I tried it out on you and Dean.”

Cas felt his feathers ruffle. “A spell that reveals your soulmate? Me and Dean are-?”

“Yeah, I know it’s unethical or whatever, and I’m sorry, but I was just so  _ sick  _ of it!”

“Sick of what?”

“All of your lovesick bullshit!” Sam snapped. “You two are constantly pining after each other. I was tired of watching you two pretend the other isn’t interested when it’s obvious you’re both completely in love. I was only trying to help.”

Cas blanched, and his wings flared to show it. “You knew?”

Sam scoffed. “Did I know. Half the freaking country knew. It’s not like you two are subtle.”

Well, Cas thought he was being reasonably subtle. Apparently not. “So, the first part of the spell was tattoos that revealed your soulmate. The second is wings?”

“Right!” Sam brightened. “The wings are a mirror of your soul, supposedly. The first color is your own individual wing color, and the second is the color of your soulmates eyes. I guess ‘cause eyes are the window to the soul and everything.”

Cas nodded, processing that. He turned to take in his wings again, tracing the outer primaries with a fingertip. “They really are a lovely color.”

“There you go again,” Sam snorted.

Cas flushed a bit, a delicate pink taking over his cheeks. “Right. So, I’m guessing there’s a third part to this spell.”

Sam nodded slowly.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“The third part of the spell?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Sam!”

Sam sighed impatiently. “It’ll ruin it. If I tell you it won’t work.” Cas shot him a look. “Come on, Cas. You know Dean. You’re going to have to show him a lot more than words on a wrist to get him to believe that he can actually be with you.”

“You’re right,” Cas rose from the chair, his voice determined. “I have to find him.”

“Yeah, you do. He’s probably in his room.” Sam sounded satisfied. 

Ce made his way down the corridor as fast as he could go, unsteady from the unexpected weight on his back. Corporeal wings were much heavier than expected. Just as he reached Dean’s room, the door flew open.

Dean stood on the other side, his eyes widening when he took in Cas. His wings were a different shade, and Cas prided himself on having guessed their color correctly. They started out pure white at the base, then their snowy depths faded into an ice-blue. He recognized that blue; it stared back at him from the mirror every day. He had to admit, though, he liked the color on Dean better.

“What-” Dean started, but Cas shook his head and interrupted him.

“I’m in love with you.” That shocked Dean into silence. “And I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me. But this spell apparently says we’re soulmates, and when you found out, the way you acted told me you’re in love with me too.”

Dean stared at Cas for a couple more seconds before letting out a stunned, “My wings are the color of your eyes.”

Cas blinked. “Yes. Yes they are.” Then, he reached towards Dean, drew him close and pressed his own lips against Dean’s.

Dean responded immediately, like he had been waiting for this, like this what he always wanted. Like this was what he had never been allowed to have, but now that it was his, there was no way in hell he was letting go. The kiss was fiery, passionate, and rapidly turning messy. 

Then, Dean pulled away to stare at Cas with disbelief. “You’re in love with me?”

Cas growled and chased Dean’s mouth. “Yes, Dean, I thought I made that abundantly clear.”

“But, me? Why?”

Dean was still trying to stay away from him, looking for an answer, but his hands were clutching Cas’ shirt with a death grip, as though he was scared Cas was going to disappear. Cas felt his wings ruffle in frustration, then fold upwardas, towering over the other man. “Dean, you are one of the most incredible humans I have ever met. Your soul is pure and bright and I am in love with it. You’re fiercely loyal, incredibly brave, you love with your entire being, and if this is okay with you, I would very much like to continue kissing.”

Dean blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He drew Cas’ mouth into his own, practically melting into Cas’ body. Dean’s wings, which had grown limp with shock at Cas’s outburst, reached towards Cas. His own wings wrapped around Dean, pulling him close and pushing him into Cas.

The kiss had turned heated, tongues exploring mouths and teeth occasionally clicking. Dean’s arms were around Cas’ neck, fingers digging into his hair. Cas’ hands were exploring, making their way down Dean’s chest. Dean pulled Cas into the room and onto the bed in a flurry of feathers. Cas landed on top of Dean with a thump, and he gazed down at him with a small smile.

Suddenly, the prickling at the base of his spine was back, and with a painful jerk, Cas felt the wings disappear from his body.

\---

Dean let out a small grunt of pain when he felt his wings disappear. He stared up at Cas above him, whose wings had also disappeared.

About that. Cas was  _ above him _ . Cas was above him on his bed because Cas had just kissed the living daylights out of him. Because Cas was in love with him.

That revelation was earth shattering enough. Along with that, every self-deprecating thought he had when Cas told this to him, every  _ I’ll hurt you _ and  _ you deserve someone who won’t fail you _ , went straight out the window when Cas stared at Dean resolutely and told him his soul was beautiful. Cas had bore into Dean with a single-minded focus he usually reserved for hunts, and his wings were the color of Dean’s eyes, and he had reached for Dean to kiss him, and  _ fuck _ , Dean was only human.

Cas’ mouth was hard and wet and was pressing passionately into his with absolutely no finesse at all, as though he was determined to suck Dean’s soul out through his mouth. Dean had never had a better kiss in his entire life.

Now they were on his bed, and their wings were gone, which Dean was a little disappointed about. He kinda liked the way Cas’s wings pulled him into Cas’ arms all possessive.

“You think the spell’s gone?” he grunted, shifting under Cas.

“The matching wins have disappeared, and I didn’t feel any tattoos.”

“Good,” Dean said, and pulled Cas down to bite at his lips. But, as he sunk his teeth into Cas’ bottom lip, he felt a phantom sensation of teeth on his own lips. He drew away, brow furrowed in confusion. “Cas, I think-”

“The spell isn’t done,” Cas announced breathlessly. “It seems we can feel each other’s pain.” And with that, he bent over and bit the spot where Dean’s neck and collarbone met. 

Dean groaned, and his eyes fluttered closed. He forced his eyes open and saw a mark forming on Cas’s collarbone, right where he bit Dean. “Fuck, this spell’s gonna be the death of me.”

He reached up and raked his nails across Cas’ back, thrusting his hips against Cas. Cas let out a breathless noise, and Dean felt the sting of nails down his own back.

Cas lifted his gaze, looked at Dean, who was gasping, and smiled. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

\---

Afterwards, Dean and Cas were slumped over Dean’s bed, aching and satisfied. “So,” Dean started conversationally. “You’re in love with me.”

“I believe I just said that. Many times, in fact.” Cas’ tone was dry.

“Shaddup, it doesn’t count when I’m sucking you off. Apparently, you’re also my soulmate.” 

Cas let out a small snort. “Yes, Sam saw through to that.”

“Sam?”

“Yes,” Cas sighed. “This spell was his doing. He was convinced we were in love with each other and we weren’t going to do anything about it, and he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

“Wow,” Dean shook his head. “I’m going to have  _ words _ with that meddling bastard.”

“Well, he was right, wasn’t he?”

“Shut the hell up Cas.”

Cas laughed. “For the record, this wasn’t just the spell.”

Dean frowned, then turned to Cas. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now, Dean. That wasn’t caused by some spell. It just took the spell for us to see it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dean joked.

Cas, however, caught the undertone to the words. “I really do, Dean. Please don’t doubt me on that. I never said anything before because I was sure you didn’t reciprocate, and I didn’t want to destroy our relationship. And I know you feel you don’t deserve it. But I do love you.”

Dean stared at Cas, a little open-mouthed. He tried to find the words to tell Cas right back, but couldn’t find any. So, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’ mouth. From the smile Cas gave him, he could tell his message got across.

\---

Sam was back in the bunker’s basement. The little handbound book was sitting on a shelf next to Sam’s phone. It had been one of the most entertaining things Sam had done in a while. But now, he probably needed to find some noise canceling headphones down here. 

Still, the payoff was worth it. He wasn’t above doing the occasional good deed for his brother, and at least now the constant pining and lovesick stares would stop.

But Sam was still bored. The book had solved Cas and Dean’s love life, not alleviated his mind numbing need for something to do. Sighing, Sam packed up the box and hefted it up back on the shelf. 

Maybe he could sneak out and go on that jog when Cas and Dean were . . . occupied. He was sure they didn’t want an interruption. 

His eyes fell on the book again before a spark flared to life in his eye. “I wonder what happens if I try the spell on me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!! Also come say hi on my tumblr: river-bottom-nightmare


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